Contradiction
by OnTheUpNUpJack
Summary: He was an Angel for resisting. He was a Devil for having to. E/B vampire story


**A/N So this story is… much different than anything else I've ever written. And, it's my first lemon! Hopefully it lives up to what anyone else may be expecting of Edward and Bella.**

**I don't own Twilight, and this story contains explicit content, as befits the rating M. Please don't read if you are not comfortable with adult situations. In fact, don't read anything with the rating M, because, let's all be honest with ourselves, and admit that **

**M always equals adult situations. **

**Please review, and I am not above bribery/ and or begging… just so you know!**

His eyes were closed, he looked in agony, he looked in peace. Such a beautiful combination, truly. How they went together was strange, in a way it went together just as pain and pleasure do at times.

His long black lashes were spread on his skin, it was a perfect contrast of dark and light. Such an odd combinations of things he is.

Light, and dark. Pain and pleasure. Agony and peace.

How he did struggle with his nature. His nature, so dangerous. Yet, he resists, to my complete bewilderment. Why should he resist? It is not his fault, that he is what he is. I should think that I would not have blamed him in the slightest if he'd given in.

But he would. As is his nature, he would have tormented himself for giving in to his nature. Which might seem rather ironic to most people. Truly to me, everything about this man was a contradiction, a cruel irony.

An angel for resisting. A devil for having to.

He was so good, so sweet. But his darker nature did come out to play. How I loved that nature.

Truly he could be animalistic, but not hurt me. How he does it, is a wonder to all and everyone who learns of his plight is awed. And everyone is awed by this man. So amazing. So contradictory.

His eyes are opened now, and the sinister look in his dark eyes send my pulse racing. Every bit of this man intrigues me. His good, his bad, his combined good and bad. But is his menacing actions that truly captivate me.

It is so difficult for him to understand this. He is so good, all the time. The dark part of him- the part that comes out with our night play- is truly my favorite part. The blend of just how, rough, he could be, combined with the fact that I knew without a doubt that he would never- could never- hurt me, makes me shiver in desire.

He is so good all the time, it is simply erotic to see him lose that bit of good. Lose all of his carefully controlled _control_.

His dark eyes have turned darker, as I think my thoughts of him, and his roughness. His nose flares quickly. He has smelled my scent, my desire for him. I grin wickedly at him, and his own need flares up immediately.

And suddenly I am panting wantonly. I know what this does to him, how quickly that this destroys his control. How I adore doing this to him.

He is on top of me now, not touching any of me. He hovers right above me, just close enough to feel my skin brush his own.

Frustrated with his lack of touching I rub my thighs together. This too, drives him mad with want.

Somehow he resists, though I do everything I can to break his control. I lift my torso up slowly, drawing myself closer to him, even as he pushes himself further away. At last, our chests brush, and he groans loudly. There are no barriers between us, having ripped them away at an earlier time.

I press my lips very lightly against his, knowing that this might anger him, might spur his actions onwards. It does not, and I pout angrily. Damn his control!

But then my lips curve into a sly grin. There is one thing left, one last resort, that will with utmost certainty break his resolve.

I set my face into an innocent expression, one that is sure to drive him mad. "Baby…" I purr up at him and I see him swallow nervously. "I need you."

And his resolve was broken, as I'd known it would be. He places his lips upon my own, none too gently and I moan into the kiss.

His lips rub against my own, and his tongue licks them, seeking entrance. I do not let him in, deciding that he deserves to be punished for his earlier resistance.

He growls menacingly, my whimper of pleasure loosens my lips and his tongue is rubbing my own. His venom colliding with my own creates a sensation so euphoric it is indescribable, though if I had to call it anything, it would be tingling. It makes the most delicious tingling sensation, only one sensation in this world is better, and that is him inside me.

My hands are firmly tangled in his hair, and he moans with pleasure when I tug at it harder. His bronze locks are never safe from me, their softness is simply irresistible to me, and I rarely ever resist.

His own hands are firmly planted on my waist, stroking little soft circles. I wiggle to loosen his grip, to make him move his hands to a place far more pleasant. The vinyl of the couch squeaks comedically beneath our movements.

He draws my lip into his mouth, sucking lightly, biting very lightly. I growl at him warningly. He does not listen, and bites down much harder, hard enough to break skin. I will have a scar from this, faint enough that humans could not see it, but dark enough that any one of our kind could easily spot the marking.

He has for a long time, looked for a place to mark me that would be visible to all. He decided quite some time ago that my lip would be perfect. He does so love marking me. I am not happy with him, and he knows this.

To make me forget my anger he removes his mouth from my own, and finds my scars. First, he brings my wrist to his lips, there is a scar there, from James' attack so long ago. He loathes this scar, to him it is another marking me. He has bitten me numerous times over this scar, but he still claims that this is not enough.

Once he is done sucking the scar upon my wrist, the overly sensitive skin, he drags his nose up my arm to my neck, his favourite place to mark me.

I have four marks upon my neck now, and he loves every one of them. He laps at them roughly and I groan my pleasure.

Finally he brings himself to a mark upon my breast. And it is heaven when he touches his tongue to my skin. I moan so loudly, and his answering groan is awe-inducing. My mate's hands finally make their way to my breasts, and he is roughly massaging them.

He pulls roughly at my nipples, making them harder. Now I am making an odd mewling sound, one that he seems to enjoy very much. His tongue is now circling my nipple, but he does not draw it into his mouth, knowing that I want this very much.

He is teasing me, and I am not happy about it.

I push him off of me, and I straddle his stomach, just above his awaiting desire. He groans, confused by the new position. It is well known that I prefer him on top.

To pay him back for the now-tingling mark on my bottom lip, I draw my lips to his neck. My hands pull his hair roughly to the left, forcing his head to follow.

My lips suck lightly at his neck and he makes a sound of pleasure. My lips pull into a nefarious smile, though he does not see it. It is time for _me _to mark _him_.

I bite down hard, and his low growling has turned to howling. I have never heard such a noise from him, and it increases my pleasure quickly.

My teeth still embedded in his skin, I rub myself across his stomach, getting some of the friction I need so badly, but not hardly enough. The pressure inside of me is building far too slowly for my liking.

Finally, when my teeth are removed from his skin he flips me over, his thigh between my own and moving forcefully.

My wetness coats his leg and his groans are absolutely animalistic as he thrusts it harder against me. His knee brushes my nub and I am thrown into heaven, my mate's thigh between my own, his hands roughly kneading my breasts, and his long desire brushing my leg.

Two times I come like this. Two times is not enough. His _thigh _is not enough.

I am screaming and thrashing about, and my fingers are breaking skin from where they are upon his back. My masochist grins at this.

"Stand." He commands me, thrilling me with his dominance. I do as I'm told.

He kneels before me, giving me such a look of desire I can't help but to whimper loudly. His eyes are black and narrowed.

My mate throws one of my legs over his shoulder, my hands immediately seeking his hair again. He runs his nose along my thigh, teasing me mercilessly.

His fingers lightly trace my most intimate of places, I shiver in delight.

I finally grow tired of his games and scream at him to fuck me. His dark eyes grow darker still and my legs are spread wide.

He thrusts two of his fingers into me with one quick stroke, and draws my clit into his mouth. My orgasm rips through me immediately, I am so sensitive from his earlier teasing.

His chuckling only serves to make my pleasure all the more intense, and I growl at him when I am able to think again, angry for his laughter. I do not intend to allow him to go unpunished.

It was my turn to send my lover a chilling grin, and his laughter ceases immediately, and with the look upon his face, it is as though he is afraid of me. I do my best to withhold my manic chuckles.

I push him into the wall, which is only a few feet away from where I stand. I force him to stand, bringing his lips close to my own. I breathe heavily on his lips, and he inhales my breath happily. Just as he is about to place his lips upon my own, I dodge and fall to my knees.

Before he can think, before he can act, and long before he can start his protests, I hold his desire in my hand. He nearly screams in surprise, and it's my turn to laugh at him. He scowls at me and I give a guiltless grin.

I bring my hand close to his tip, smearing my fingers with the liquid gathered there. My mate is groaning his pleasure, and I run my hand down his shaft lightly, going faster and faster with each stroke.

When he approaches his brink, I bring my mouth to him, and he comes into my mouth. I swallow all I can and watch his face. His eyes are closed and his mouth has fallen open, he's gasping in the air he doesn't need and his whole body is shuddering and at my mercy.

This all makes me want him more. When I pull my mouth from him, he lifts me and throws me against the wall he had previously occupied.

He's nibbling my scars again, following his favorite path yet again. Wrist, neck, breast. My husband's desire makes itself apparent against my thigh again, and I thank all the Gods I can think of that he is eternally seventeen years old.

"Bed." I finally manage to groan out a word, just as his hands are at my thighs. He nods in agreement, and we gracelessly stumble to the bed.

I spread my legs without waiting for his demand, and my mate climbs atop me, immediately thrusting into me.

We are moaning and groaning and growling and screaming and it is all wordless and absolutely makes me all the wetter.

Downstairs our housemates complain of our inconsiderate loudness, and I laugh at their hypocrisy. They shut up instantaneously.

His rhythm is fast, hard, and rough. There is no set pace, and the thrusts unpredictably. I do my best to meet him thrust for thrust, making the friction all the better.

Some may be surprised to hear this, but another two orgasms rip through me quickly, and they are intense and satisfying. I make sure that he knows of my pleasure, squeezing my inner muscles, and his answering groan tells me he has caught my message.

My mate is suddenly quiet, until his own orgasm erupts within me with a wordless roar. Another orgasm is upon me, seeing his face so filled with pleasure.

He collapses upon my chest, his hands lightly massaging me.

I smile down at him, he has behaved this time. Only one bite. He has behaved very, very well this time.

Seeing my smile he grins back happily, and pinches my nipple.

"Edward." I groan out his name, ready for another round, and he hardens inside of me again. I moan as it all starts again.

His thrusts are much rougher this time.


End file.
